Cultivation: I Can Steal Lifespan from Spirit Beasts

Not long after Wang Ba returned to the Eastern Sage Garrison via the teleportation array, Yu Changchun hurried over.

Seeing that Wang Ba was disheveled but otherwise completely intact, Yu Changchun’s expression shifted from surprise to delight.

“I knew it! Fellow Daoist is truly a man blessed with fortune.”

Wang Ba’s spirits were low, but he forced a polite smile. “Senior Yu jokes. If I were truly blessed, I would have been a full Sect disciple long ago.”

Yu Changchun waved off the humility, his face turning solemn.

“I heard everything from my Martial Uncle. This campaign was a deathtrap. Who could have guessed the Supreme Elder of Mirror Moon Manor possessed a treasure as vicious as the ‘Soul-Falling Divine Light’?”

He snorted derisively. “I heard several Foundation Establishment cultivators from the Joyful Life Path perished. They tried to steal a chicken only to lose the rice. Serves them right.”

His tone dripped with schadenfreude. Despite being in the same Sect, the animosity between the different Paths was palpable.

“I must thank Senior Yu for putting in a good word for me with Senior Bai,” Wang Ba said, clasping his hands. “But dare I ask… what exactly is this Soul-Falling Divine Light? How can it be so terrifying?”

“I don’t know the specifics,” Yu Changchun admitted. “I only know it attacks the soul directly. It shakes the mind and invisibly strips the Divine Sense from the flesh. If your soul is weak, a casual sweep of that light will extinguish you instantly, leaving your body as an empty husk. As for Qi Refining cultivators…”

He trailed off, the implication clear.

Wang Ba felt a chill run down his spine.

He had assumed the light was a physical disintegration beam. To learn that its primary function was soul-stripping made it infinitely more sinister. It killed without leaving a mark.

He thought of Su Lingling and Yun Caixiang, their lives snuffed out in an instant. His heart grew heavy.

Yu Changchun didn’t notice Wang Ba’s sullen mood. He chuckled, continuing his gossip.

“The Joyful Life Path took a heavy blow, but the Mystic Maiden Path didn’t fare much better. Although that Martial Uncle Jiang made a significant contribution, I heard he paid a steep price. To infiltrate the manor, he rashly assimilated a Foundation Establishment female cultivator whose affinity was incompatible. He’ll be bedridden for a long time.”

“Affinity was incompatible?” Wang Ba asked, his curiosity piqued.

He immediately thought of the graceful, tragic figure of the Mirror Moon Manor Lord, ‘Yun Jing.’

“Hmm… well, since Martial Uncle Bai Yu has taken a liking to you, you’re practically one of us anyway. I can tell you,” Yu Changchun whispered conspiratorially. “But keep your mouth shut. If the Sect inspectors catch wind of me leaking secrets, I’ll be the one in trouble.”

He leaned in closer.

“The Mystic Maiden Path is bizarre. It sounds feminine, but in reality, it is cultivated almost exclusively by men.”

Wang Ba nodded, recalling the Foundation Establishment cultivator surnamed Jiang.

“In the early stages, their cultivation looks normal,” Yu Changchun explained. “But once they reach Foundation Establishment, their bodies become malleable, soft as water. They search for female cultivators with compatible spiritual affinities and use secret arts to ‘groom’ them, accelerating their growth.”

“When the woman’s cultivation approaches or surpasses their own… they assimilate her.”

Yu Changchun’s face twisted in a mix of disgust and admiration.

“They consume her essence to boost their own power. But the side effect is that their body transforms to become identical to the woman they devoured. Over time, their body slowly reverts to its original male form. That digestion process signals they are ready for the next assimilation.”

“To be honest,” Yu Changchun sighed, “it’s repulsive, but the cultivation speed is terrifying. The only bottleneck is finding compatible women. If they force an assimilation with an incompatible target… tsk, tsk. They suffer a fate worse than death.”

Wang Ba listened, his horizons broadening in the most horrific way possible. Yet, a strange sense of familiarity tugged at his mind.

He couldn’t place it.

Shaking off the thought, he focused on a key detail. “Senior Yu… you said Senior Bai took a liking to me?”

“Stop with the ‘Senior.’ Call me Fellow Daoist,” Yu Changchun insisted. “Martial Uncle told me everything. You, my friend, silently cultivated to the Eighth Layer of Qi Refining without making a sound. Good heavens! When did you switch cultivation techniques? I didn’t even notice!”

Wang Ba quickly explained, “I didn’t mean to hide it, Fellow Daoist. I simply abandoned all spell practice to focus 100% on refining Spiritual Power. That’s why my progress seems fast.”

“No need to explain!” Yu Changchun waved his hand dismissively. “To reach the Eighth Layer in one breath without relying on spell practice to temper your control… that proves your talent is immense. Tsk. A genius like you, unbothered by bottlenecks… keeping you in the Left Path is truly a waste.”

Wang Ba forced a smile, feeling a mix of amusement and awkwardness.

Genius? If only you knew.

Only a “genius” label could explain his unnatural lack of bottlenecks. He decided to let the misunderstanding stand.

Yu Changchun continued, “Martial Uncle Bai is one of the few trustworthy people in the Sect. He’s fair. When I switched to the Blood Bone Path, he helped me immensely. That’s why I gifted him that jar of your Black Crystal Peach Spirit Wine.”

“He loved it. So when I asked him to look after you, he agreed immediately.”

Wang Ba nodded, genuinely grateful. Bai Yu had kept his word. Without those bone fragments distributing the damage of the Soul-Falling Divine Light, Wang Ba might have been forced to burn a precious ‘Substitute Death’ life.

“By the way,” Yu Changchun asked suddenly, “do you know how to craft Talismans?”

“Talismans?” Wang Ba paused, then shook his head. “Why do you ask?”

He had considered learning, but Talisman crafting wasn’t something one could master by reading a manual. It required a teacher, endless practice, and innate talent.

For Wang Ba, time spent scribbling on paper was time not spent increasing his lifespan. It was inefficient. Why grind a profession when he could just grind levels? Once his realm was high enough, learning low-level crafts would be trivial.

Yu Changchun didn’t seem surprised.

“Elder Jin of the Profound Talisman Path perished recently. He left behind a single ‘Inheritance Spirit Talisman.’ It requires a skilled Talisman crafter to unlock, regardless of their status.”

“I thought if you knew the craft, you could try your luck. Inheriting that talisman would instantly strip you of your Left Path status. No more mandatory tasks, no more conscriptions.”

“Does that mean the Spirit-Hosting Bamboo Slip can be removed?” Wang Ba asked sharply.

“The Bamboo Slip?” Yu Changchun looked at him like he was naive.

“You don’t think only Left Path cultivators are bound by it, do you?”

“Every single cultivator in the Heavenly Gate Sect—even the disciples of the Profound Soul Path—has their soul signature on a Bamboo Slip. One copy stays with the Profound Soul Path, the other with the Sect Master.”

Yu Changchun sneered. “Let’s be honest. You know what our disciples are like. Do you think they’d serve the Sect loyally out of the goodness of their hearts? Without that leash, they’d sell the Sect for a profit in a heartbeat.”

“It’s a necessary evil. I used to hate it too—feeling like my life was in someone else’s hands is maddening. But as long as you don’t betray the Sect or fail three missions, you’re safe. In all my years, deaths outside of those two reasons are… well, they can be counted on one hand.”

Wang Ba nodded, concealing his disappointment.

They chatted for a while longer before Wang Ba went to the coop, retrieved twenty Spirit Chickens, and sent Yu Changchun on his way.

The deaths of Su Lingling and Yun Caixiang cast a long shadow over the group.

Bu Chan threw herself into cultivation with a desperate intensity. Fear had lit a fire under her.

Shen Fu, however, worried Wang Ba deeply.

The boy, once cold-faced but warm-hearted, had completely frozen over. He had become as unapproachable as a block of ice.

Whenever Wang Ba or Bu Chan came near, he would force a polite smile, but it never reached his eyes.

Soon, Shen Fu began accepting ‘Free Tasks’ from the Heavenly Gate Order with alarming frequency. Aside from his mandatory cultivation sessions in the Spirit Water Courtyard, he was a ghost.

Wang Ba wanted to advise him, but words felt hollow.

A few days later, the Merit Ranking for the conscription was posted in the market.

It tracked only Qi Refining cultivators, ignoring status. The Heavenly Gate Seal recorded every kill and formation break automatically.

First place: Dong Qiyu.

The traitor who had sabotaged the Mirror Moon Grand Formation had racked up a staggering 5,000 points in a single mission. His cumulative total exceeded 20,000.

He already met the authority requirements for Level 5. Once he completed the mandatory conscription count, he would become a formal disciple.

Second place: [Sword Demon Path – Zong Meng]

Third place: [Slaughter Life Path – Xiong Haitian]

Wang Ba remembered the two figures from that night—one a sword-wielding demon, the other a blood-soaked giant. They had carved through the battlefield like gods of war. In the Qi Refining realm, they were indisputably the apex predators.

Further down the list, familiar names appeared.

Meng Randao: 15th.

Jing Kuang: 112th.

Old Man Yan: 569th.

Shen Fu: 2,862nd.

Bu Chan: 3,007th.

Wang Ba’s name was buried at the very bottom, hovering just above the people who had earned negative scores.

He wasn’t surprised. He had spent the entire campaign hiding in the back, barely using a drop of Spiritual Power. The ranking was accurate.

He didn’t care.

His goal was survival, not glory. Merit points could be earned safely through farming; risking his life for them was a fool’s gamble.

Besides, the trip hadn’t been a total loss. While others were charging forward, he had been scavenging the rear, picking up quite a few stray Storage Bags.

Most contained trash, but two were sealed with Divine Sense. He couldn’t open them yet, but they promised a decent payday later.

The ripples of the war gradually faded from Wang Ba’s daily life.

He returned to his routine.

Two months later.

The egg produced by the mating of Alpha-Nine and the Singing White Chicken finally began to crack.